


Bullied- A Phil Lester Fanfiction

by brookwrites



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Amazingphil - Freeform, Angst, Bullying, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, F slur, Fluff, High School AU, Homophobia, M/M, Pastel Phil Lester, Pastel/Punk, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Punk reader, Slurs, Violence, dap, dnp, mild violence, phanfic, phil lester x reader, punk male reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookwrites/pseuds/brookwrites
Summary: It’s a tough life for a pastel-clad boy in high school. But for once, Phil meets someone who wants to be his friend. But he soon realizes he wants more.





	Bullied- A Phil Lester Fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Warnings: Homophobia, F slur, Mild violence  
> 2\. This is the first x reader I ever wrote, so forgive the fact that I completely forgot how the formatting worked. I've got some more that are better, if you're into that.

Phil watches one pastel purple sneaker push in front of the other as he makes his way down the hallway on the first day of school. He walks the halls in fear; he left his old school to avoid horrendous bullies, but expects plenty more here. He won’t like the new school any more than he did the old one. 

Unsurprisingly, around midday, he’s met with two boys in leather jackets. Their usually black and blonde hair is dyed a dull shade of blue and red, and piercings line their faces. They look angry. “Looks like we’ve got a new faggot on our hands.” 

“I don’t believe it’s fair to call me a faggot just for wearing pastel colors.” Phil’s gotten used to talking back to his bullies. He’s going to get hit anyway; he might as well have some fun. 

The bullies contemplate this. “Only a faggot would say that!” And with that, a fist collides with Phil’s face. He slumps to the ground, mostly to make the two punks think they’ve won. His pain tolerance has grown scarily high, so he’s not really hurt. “Ha.” One bully says. “What a wuss.” 

The other rears his leg back, then lets it fling forward to kick Phil in the balls. “Ha. Guess he does have ‘em. Surprising.” The two chuckle as they sulk off. That actually hurt. He pulls himself up, pressing on the place where the bully hit his face. That’s going to leave a bruise. 

Phil lives through a few more days of abuse without his parents noticing. But when he goes to the bathroom to check his injuries after one particularly rough beating, he can already see his face turning shades of black and blue. He sighs as he hears a stall door creak open. All he sees is a glimpse of a lip piercing, and suddenly the words are already out of his mouth. “Don’t hurt me, please.” 

“What?” 

Phil cautiously looks up from behind his fists, which he holds up to protect his face. He looks the boy up and down. He has dyed hair and a few facial piercings, dark clothes, and a leather jacket to top it all off. He’s definitely a punk. “Please don’t punch me.” His bruise is revealed, and the boy’s eyes go wide. 

“Are you okay?” He holds out a hand, but Phil cowers away. “Come on, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” Phil looks into his eyes, and sees nothing but care. Throughout his experiences, he’s never seen a bully’s eyes look so pure and sincere. Either this guy’s an actor or he’s telling the truth. 

Deciding to trust the stranger, he puts his hands down and steps towards him. The stranger presses his thumb softly to Phil’s injury, and Phil winces. He immediately pulls his hand back, frowning deeply. “We should take you to the nurse and get you some ice.” 

Shamelessly, the boy leads him out of the bathroom and downstairs to the nurse. The two get weird looks; they are a punk boy and a pastel boy walking right beside each other. Nobody has ever seen something like this before. They’ve always been their separate cliques, and they’ve never mixed. Until now. 

After Phil gets some ice, the dismissal bell rings and everyone storms down the hallway to get to the buses and head home. “Do you want to come over to my house?” the boy asks. 

“It would be nice to know your name first.” Phil smiles for the first time in days. 

“I’m Y/N.” He shakes Phil’s hand. 

“Alright then, Y/N. I’d love to come over this afternoon.” 

Phil texts his parents about where he’s going and they walk to Y/N’s house. “Hey, Mom!” Y/N calls, passing through the living room. “I’m home, and I brought a friend!” 

“Okay, Y/N!” Phil follows him upstairs and into his room, and he’s a bit surprised taking a seat on Y/N’s bed. Around the room there’s only a few punk posters; the rest of the wall space is covered with video game posters and childhood art. Adorable trinkets line the tops of tables in two corners of the room. Y/N isn’t as tough as Phil thought. 

“What happened to you?” Y/N asks, pulling Phil from his own head.

“A few p-” He stops himself from saying punks. Y/N’s punk, but he’s actually really good-hearted. “people beat me up.” 

Y/N sighs. “They were punks, weren’t they?” Phil nods. “We have a horrible stereotype that we’re all bullies. Honestly, most of us are. I think I’m the only decent one at our school. You’re new, right?” Phil nods again. “They love to prey on new kids.” 

“And these are your friends?” 

Y/N shakes his head. “We used to be friends, but when I realized how mean they really were, I ditched him. But by that point I already had all these piercings and my mom wouldn’t buy me any new clothes. I’m not really that much of a punk anymore, I just look it.” 

Muscles Phil didn’t know were tense finally relax. Y/N really isn’t one of those mean punks; he’s just a misunderstood sweetheart. Though that’s not how Phil would describe him to his face. Now that he’s calm, the reality of his situation sinks in. “Thanks for saving me back there,” Phil says. “I didn’t really want to go home today and let my parents see this.” He gestures to his face. 

Y/N’s eyes widen. “Do you want to stay the night?” 

Phil contemplates this. “I don’t have any other clothes…” He looks down at his outfit. “But I’d love to.” 

And so the two spend the night playing video games and watching YouTube. Phil often finds his head on Y/N’s shoulder, but neither of the two complain. The sun sets but the boy’s don’t. They’ve long since decided to stay up through the night together, but there’s one thing Phil forgot in that agreement: past around 1:00 in the morning, you lose most ability to rationalize. 

It’s 2:30 when he realizes he can’t stop staring at Y/N’s lips. He can’t help but notice the way he plays with his lip piercing when he gets bored. He can’t help but notice his beautiful, white smile. He can’t help but want those lips on his own. But what he doesn’t notice is Y/N’s eyes on his own lips. 

Y/N, however, manages to become aware of Phil’s gaze very quickly. He takes Phil’s jawline in his hand, holding it lightly and carefully to avoid touching his bruises. Phil’s eyes finally wander up to meet Y/N’s, but only for a moment. He doesn’t have much time to look, because before he has the chance, his lips are connected to Y/N’s. 

Phil leans into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the back of Y/N’s neck. His tongue rolls over Y/N’s lip piercing, and Y/N opens his mouth, allowing Phil’s tongue to explore every crevice and corner of Y/N’s mouth. Adrenaline pumping, breathing through their noses comes to be not enough. They break apart for a moment, taking a few seconds to admire each other’s eyes. 

Phil remembers when he first looked at those eyes earlier in the day. Then, they showed pure care and concern; now, they show care and love. And with that, their lips collide again and all thoughts drain from Phil’s mind as he relaxes into the kiss. Something tells Phil he actually will like this new school.


End file.
